


Until Dust

by pastelfalcon



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, BDSM, Bottom!Sam, M/M, Marking, Rough Sex, Taunting as Dirty Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelfalcon/pseuds/pastelfalcon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s always liked the way he feels after, blanketed in love that sits just beneath his skin, love that comes without anger but instead with passion, careful and crafted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until Dust

"Is this okay?" Steve asks like he doesn’t know, but there’s a smirk playing at his lips, the same cocky upward tilt of Steve’s mouth that usually heralds a serious ass whooping for a bad guy or an orgasm that’s gonna roll Sam’s eyes up into the back of his head. "Tell me if I’m being too rough," Steve adds, eyebrows raising, but he already knows Sam will, he’s just taunting him now, pressing his arm harder against Sam’s throat to better pin him against the bed.

"Get the hell on with it," Sam grouses, feigning irritation and impatience, but the rasp in his voice is real. Steve’s full weight is on top of him, miles of pale blush-splotched skin pressing flush against his own, and Steve’s radiating so much warmth there’s already sweat slicking between their stomachs.

Sam’s always liked a rough fuck. He’s always liked to burn deep for days, masking grimaces every time he sits down. He’s always liked pressing his fingers into aging bruises, hard to see but perfect to touch, tender flesh’s aching going sharp when he pushes hard. He’s always liked the way he feels after, blanketed in love that sits just beneath his skin, love that comes without anger but instead with passion, careful and crafted.

"What was that?" Steve asks, arm choking of Sam’s air. "Gotta be more specific, Sam," he teases, baby blues full of everything that makes Sam feel like maybe he can be safe here on the ground too, "I’m a soldier, I need clear orders."

"You don’t listen to orders," Sam exhales hoarsely, offering up the last in his lungs as sacrifice.

Steve’s smile goes momentarily soft. “I would listen to yours,” he says, ducking his face down to kiss Sam’s parted lips, tongue dipping to taste submission and need. He licks the inside of Sam’s mouth like he’s trying to coax him into a kiss, but Sam knows better and remains passive, letting himself be tasted. “It’s too bad,” says Steve conversationally, “Guess we’ll have to do it my way.”

Steve’s way is actually Sam’s way, but they both knew that already.

Steve starts moving again, thick cock dragging across Sam’s already tender insides with relentless heat and sensation, occasionally skidding over his prostate and making Sam’s dick jerk where it’s caught between them. He’s fucking him hard and deep, keeping Sam’s thighs spread wide open so he can tuck his hips in close, grinding when Sam clenches too hard for Steve to keep thrusting without hurting them both. He intermittently lets up on Sam’s throat, allowing him a gasped breath before cutting him off again, Sam’s thoughts going hazy and warm like syrup poured fresh over breakfast.

"I could let you move," Steve says, pushing down against him harder now, the mattress springs whining in soft complaint, "But I’m not. I like you right where you already are."

"Figured," Sam grits out, fighting down the urge to buck his hips to press his cock harder against Steve, sweat and precum robbing him of satisfactory friction. Instead he just bares his teeth and lets his head tip back, eyebrows knitting as he mumbles, "Please."

Steve smirks, licking the corner of his mouth as he watches Sam from beneath his lashes. “No specifics again,” he says musingly, and Sam sucks in a hurried breath just before Steve chokes it off again, hips snapping as he fucks Sam quick and bruising. “You know I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose.”

"Please," Sam whispers again, fingers twisting in the sheets, every muscle in his body tight against the urge to move and rut.

"Okay Sam," Steve croons as he leans some of his weight into the arm across Sam’s neck, "Okay."

Sam will have his aches, internal and external, and they’ll last for days. But for much longer than that he’ll have Steve watching him close, ready to draw him into his arms or into their bed, and love him exactly the way he asks for until they’re nothing but dust in the wind. 


End file.
